


Just Relax

by angelsfalling16



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bite Kink, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Post-Canon, SnowBaz, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 01:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: Baz gives Simon an oily massage to help him relax.





	Just Relax

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this wasn't supposed to be smut when I began. It was supposed to be just a cute and fluffy fic, and then it turned into this. There's still some fluff, but now there's more. I actually don't mind how it turned out, and I hope you all like it.

**Baz**

Simon is tense today. He keeps fidgeting and adjusting, but he can’t seem to get comfortable. He tries to stretch, flexing his wings and reaching his arms above his head, but I can see from his face that nothing is working.

“On the floor,” I tell him, looking back down at my book and pretending that I haven’t been watching him trying to get comfortable for the past ten minutes.

“W-what?” He asks, going still. He apparently didn’t realize how much he was moving or that I’d noticed.

“Lie down on your stomach on the floor.”

“Oh,” he says, understanding now. “We don’t have to—. You don’t have to do this.”

“Just get on the floor, Snow.”

“Snow? Really? We’re back to that now?”

“Maybe you should listen, _Snow_.” I try to fight a smile but fail.

“Fine,” he growls. “I’m getting on the floor.” He’s attempting to sound put out, but he and I both know that he wants this, probably needs this.

He stretches out on the floor, and I toss him one of the cushions from the couch.

“Put this under your head.”

“Yes, sir,” he mocks.

“Shut up, Snow.”

He just laughs.

“Take off your shirt,” I say, turning the page of my book, pretending that I’m still reading it.

“So demanding.”

“Do you want this or not?” I ask, remaining nonchalant.

He thinks about it for a moment before giving in. He tugs at the hem of his blue t-shirt and struggles with it for a minute before I snap my book shut and slide off the couch to sit behind him. I know that it isn’t the easiest thing to take his shirt off when he’s got wings, and I don’t want to make him have to struggle with it. It will only make him more tense.

We’ve magicked all of his clothes to rework themselves around his wings, but getting them off is still tricky, especially when Simon is having trouble relaxing. I’m happy to help him, though.

I crawl across the floor until I’m kneeling beside his head. Pushing my hair out of my face, I bend down to whisper in his ear.

“Do you want some help with that?”

“Pleeease,” he groans, dropping his arms back down to his sides.

“Of course, love.” I place a soft kiss to his cheek before moving back to help him pull the shirt off.

Once the shirt has fully been removed, I take a moment to admire the freckles and moles that spot his shoulders and back. I’ve seen this sight countless times now, but I’ll never get tired of looking at it. He’s begun to relax slightly, but he is still so tense.

“Are you going to actually do something, or are you doing to just stare at me?” He asks.

“Hmm. It really is so tempting just to look at you.”

He growls, a low sound deep in his throat, and I chuckle.

“Hold on a moment. I’ll be right back,” I tell him as he starts to move to get up. “I’m just going to go get the oil.”

When I return a couple of minutes later to where he’s spread out on the living room floor, I’ve warmed the oil up in a small bowl, and I’ve got several other items with me to make this an easier process.

Simon’s head is still resting on the pillow, but his eyes are closed now. His face looks peaceful, but I can still see the tension in his back.

I set the oil and a couple of towels down on a coffee table before moving around the room, lighting some candles that I grabbed while the oil was heating. I shut off the lights before grabbing the stuff from the table and moving back over to Simon.

There’s a soft, yellow glow now and casts dancing shadow over Simon. There’s still some natural light coming in through the window as the sun sets, but it’s adds to the soothing affect of the candles.

“You better not be asleep,” I say as I kneel down beside Simon’s legs again, setting the bowl a little bit out of the way.

“M’not,” he murmurs, not opening his eyes.

“Good. Sit up a moment so that I can move the pillow under your chest.”

He does as I tell him without any complaint this time. He must be ready for this. I frown at the back of his head, wishing that he had spoken up earlier. I would have helped him if he had just asked.

I sigh inwardly, knowing that it’s still difficult sometimes for him to ask for help. There’s still part of him that believes that he needs to do everything on his own, that there’s no one there to help him. It’s so internalized that it’s not something that I think will completely go away, and I don’t think it’s a conscious decision to not ask for help anymore. He’s come a long way, and I’m happy for him. I’m even happier that I get to be a part of his life.

I pick up one of the towels that I brought with me, and after rolling it up, I place it underneath his forehead so that he can comfortably keep his neck level with his back. I roll up the other towel and place it under ankles. If I let my fingers linger on his skin longer than necessary, no one needs to know that.

“Are you ready?” I ask him as I settle next to his hips. He simply grunts in response. “No, I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m ready.”

“Okay. Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Okay.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself and pull the bowl of coconut oil closer. After one more beat, I swing one of my legs over both of his and sit gently on his upper thighs. I hold still a moment as he gets used to the weight.

We’ve done this many times before over the past several years, and we’ve found that this is the most comfortable position for both of us.

Once I’m sure he’s ready, I dip one hand into the bowl and spread some of the oil over both of my hands. After the sufficiently covered, I place my hands low on his back, just above the waistband of his joggers, which hang low on his hips to allow his tail to hang out comfortably above them. His tail trails off beside him, just in front of me. It twitches every once in a while as we sit here but stays still and out of the way for the most part.

I begin rubbing my hands up and down his back lightly, careful not to put pressure directly on his spine. My movements are slow at first as I rub the oil over his back and shoulders and up over his neck. I move around the base of his wings as I do this, avoiding them for the moment. He’s quiet as I move just a little faster, adding pressure as I stroke up his back and moving lightly back down. I continue this until I’m certain that his back has been adequately covered in the oil.

I stop to apply a little more oil to my hands, and Simon makes a low, whining noise as the loss of the feeling.

“It’s okay,” I murmur soothingly.

I place one hand on the right side of his lower back and overlap it with my other hand, and I start up a circular movement, working out the muscles in that area with the soothing circles. I can feel some of the tension start to leave him as he sighs softly. I keep working at it for a little bit longer before moving on to the left side to do the same thing there so that it’s balanced.

Adjusting my position on his legs, I start to move my hands differently.  I place my thumbs on either side of his spine and start running them up his back, adding light pressure to the muscles there. Simon gasps as I get about midway up his back, and his tail swings up at the same time, narrowly missing my face.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, stilling my movements.

“Yeah,” he shifts underneath me. “It’s just really tense there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll try to fix it. Just, be careful with your tail please.”

“Right. Sorry.” I can’t see his face, but I can tell that he’s blushing. He gets bashful when his tail moves like that on its own. It only happens when he’s really excited or in pain or surprised.

I feel his tail come to wrap around my thigh in a tight grip, and it feels nicer than I care to admit right now.

I find that spot in his back again and begin working it a little more with small, gentle circles until I feel him relax underneath me again, sighing contentedly.

I start up with the movement of my thumbs again running up and down his spine, moving my entire body with my arms, shifting back and forth so that my arms don’t get tired before I’m done. I’m careful not to rub my body into his because right now would not be the ideal time for me to get aroused.

After a few more up and down strokes, I move on to the places that need my most attention. Scooping up a little more oil, I move my hands to his shoulder blades. I feel Simon still underneath me in anticipation.

“Relax, Simon” I whisper over his bare skin. He smells so good now.

It takes a few deep breaths for him to calm down again, but he does.

I start out by moving my fingers in gentle circles over his shoulders, adding pressure in places that feel more tense than others, moving around the base of his wings. I continue to avoid actually touching his wings, and as his shoulders relax, I can tell that it’s driving him crazy. The feeling of my hands running over his wings is his favorite part, which is exactly why I save it for last.

I continue to massage his shoulders for a little longer than necessary, teasing him. He archs up into my touch, flapping his wings lightly as he does, desperate for my hands on them, and this causes his thighs to rub up against my crotch.

“Fuck,” I gasp, and he does it again. “Snow,” I grit out. “Stop that.”

He hums, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Feels like someone is enjoying this just as much as I am.”

“This isn’t about me,” I tell him, placing my hands flat on his back, holding him there while I try to get my breathing back under control and will my erection to go down.

Being able to run my hands over Simon’s body as he relaxes underneath me almost always causes this reaction, and it’s difficult to control. I love how trusting he’s become over the past seven years of our relationship. It wasn’t always this easy between us, but it’s gotten so much better.

I really don’t want to make this massage about me, though. I’m doing this purely to help him relieve some of the tension.

“It could be about you,” he says in gravelly voice that doesn’t do anything to help with my problem.

“We’re not done with the massage,” I say, lifting my hips and attempting to adjust myself so that I don’t rub up against his arse with every movement.

“We could be.”

“Not yet,” I tell him, running a finger along the strip of skin where his wings mesh with his back. I feel his body shiver underneath me, and I can tell that he’s torn between continuing with the massage and moving on to a different kind of pleasure.

“Fine,” he says after a quiet moment. “Please continue.”

I wait for him to settle again before I stroke my hands from his spine across his shoulders and to his wings, continuing the movement up and over them. I begin with light, barely-there strokes, continuing the teasing.

“Baz,” he whines, growing impatient.

Smiling at him even though he can’t see me, I remove my hand from his left wing and use both hands to pet over the other one. I drag my hands over the red material of his wings. The texture is still strange under my hand, even after touching them almost daily for years. It looks like it would be dry and rough to the touch, but that’s not it at all.

His wings are firm and steady, stretched out at their full width. They’re glossy and smooth, and I could spend all day carefully running my hands over them, exploring every inch of them. Even after repeated reassurances, I’m still afraid that I might hurt him while doing this. His wings look so fragile, and I don’t want to end up accidentally hurting him.

After I’ve run my fingers over ever part of his right wing that I can reach, I move on to the other one, listening to Simon’s contented sighs and gentle moans. He starts to move after a while, his hips gently rocking up to rub against me.

“Simon,” I say in a warning tone.

“We’re done now,” he says, in a firm tone that leaves no room for questioning.

“But—.”

Before I can finish my protest, he has some how managed to push himself up and roll over underneath me. Then, he’s flipping us, and he’s the one straddling my legs instead of the other way around.

“Simon,” I try, but it turns into a moan as he rubs against me.

“I’m good. I feel good.” He leans down to whisper into my ear. “I feel _really_ good now, Baz.”

Crowley, my face feels like it is on fire as he talks.

He continues to whisper into my ear, the feeling of his breath against it not helping me at all.

“I really appreciate your help, but now it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

I can no longer control myself. I buck up into him, causing us both to moan at the contact.

“Fuck,” he groans before leaning forward and sealing our mouths together with a kiss.

It’s needy and messy. His hands tangle in my hair, and mine scratch at his back, scrabbling for purchase, no doubt leaving marks as I pull him impossibly closer against me. His skin is smooth from the oil, and I find myself running my hands over it again and again as he deepens the kiss.

We separate long enough for him to pull my shirt over my head, and then his lips are back on mine, pulling at my lip and drawing out a low moan. I press up into him, tangling our legs around each other, our bare chests pressed together.

I pull out of the kiss and trail open-mouthed kisses across his cheek until I reach his ear, pulling at it with my teeth. I used to be afraid to do this, to use my teeth when we were being intimate together. I was so afraid that I would lose control and my fangs would pop out.

I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to accidentally turn him, or worse, suck him dry. It took him repeatedly telling me that he trusted me not to hurt him before I would even try. Trust wasn’t the thing that I was worried about because trust wouldn’t be able to stop me.

I’ll only bite him like this if I’ve fed recently because I still don’t fully trust myself. I’ve gotten much better at controlling my fangs, though. With Simon’s love and trust, I quit trying to deny that I was a vampire, which I used to do even with myself. I used to think that maybe if I ignored it long enough, it would just go away. I almost starved myself a couple of times that way. That was before I became friends – more than friends – with Simon. I spent summers missing him and hating that I missed and hating being at home where I had to hide different parts of myself, and I thought that not feeding would fix it.

It didn’t. And I haven’t tried that in a long time. I’ve learned to accept myself.

The first time that I bit Simon during sex, I realized that I wasn’t the only one who wanted me to do that. The reaction in him was quick and noticeable. His movements became more frantic, and the second time that I bit him, not long after that, he came hard with a loud moan.

Now, he has a little more control than that as I release his ear and move down to bite and suck at his neck, marking him. I feel his fingers tangle into my hair as he tilts his head to give me better access. I suck another mark into the skin between his shoulder and neck before he pulls away, breathing heavily.

He holds himself up with his hands on either side of my head. His eyes are dark with arousal, the blue just a thin circle around the black. He rests like that for a moment before I miss the contact and push myself up to kiss him again, cupping the side of his face with a gentle hand.

He smiles against my mouth. He knows me well enough to know that I just couldn’t hold myself back. I kiss him harder, and he lets me for a long moment before he pulls away.

“Wait,” he gasps.

I stop moving, waiting for him to catch his breath long enough to tell me what he wants.

He doesn’t say anything, though. He starts kissing me again, but not on my lips. The first kiss is pressed to my collar bone. Then, he’s moving down, leaving a trail of kisses down my chest until he reaches one of my nipples. He bites it, eliciting a gasp from me, before soothing it with that deliciously sinful tongue of his, rubbing at my other nipple with one of his hands.

After he’s done licking over that nipple, he switches to the other one. It feels so good, but I want something more.

“Simon,” I gasp, tugging at his hair.

Getting the hint, he places a kiss to that dip in the middle of my chest before continuing the long, tortuous journey of kissing down my body, lapping out with his tongue seemingly randomly as he goes. As he passes my bellybutton, he licks circles around it before trailing down even lower, dragging his teeth over the lower part of my stomach until he reaches the top of my jeans.

He stops there to stare down at my legs. I blush under his heated gaze. He bought this pair for me. They’re dark, and they cling to my legs, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, which is why I only wear them around our house.

He runs his hands up and down my thighs, avoiding my obvious erection. He’s doing it on purpose, too, which is obvious by the way that he drags a finger down right next to the length of it.

“Are you going to actually do something?” I sneer at him. “Or are you just going to stare at it?”

“Hmm, staring at it is fun,” he says with a small laugh.

It takes me a moment to realize that we’re repeating each other’s words from earlier, and he seems to be getting a kick out of it.

“I hate you,” I murmur, not meaning it in the least.

“If that were true,” he says, unbuttoning my jeans, “you wouldn’t have married me.”

He’s right, of course. It came as a surprise to me when he proposed during our last year of uni. We had never seriously talked about it, but it was definitely something that I wanted. I just wasn’t sure that he wanted it, too, until that moment. We married the following summer, and it was the happiest moment of my life.

Simon yanks my trousers down in one swift, practiced movement, taking my pants down with them and tossing them carelessly to the side. I gasp as the cold air washes over my newly exposed skin. He starts up the tortuous process of running his hands over my legs again, and I bite down on my lip to keep myself from begging for him to touch me where I want it most.

He smiles wickedly at me before placing a kiss to the sensitive skin on my inner thigh. I groan and squeeze my hands into fists to keep myself from pulling at him and making him go where I want him to. He trails a line of kisses up and over until he’s right beside the base of my cock, and I’m a second away from begging for it now.

Then, he finally takes the head of my cock into his mouth, and I have no hope of holding in the moan that escapes.

“Crowley, Snow,” I breathe.

“You called me Simon before,” he says, which unfortunately means that he has to release my cock to speak.

“Shut up, Simon,” I say, laughing at the age-old argument, which is a strange thing to do – both the laughing and the arguing – when his mouth is hovering over my cock, breathing cool streams of air over it.

He does shut up, though. Wrapping his mouth around the head of my cock, he runs his tongue across the slit, lapping up any precome there before slowly taking me into his mouth has far as he can, doing delectable things with his tongue as he goes, causing me to buck up into his mouth unintentionally.

His hands come up to hold my hips down, but he keeps his mouth on me.

“Sorry,” I gasp out.

He simply hums around me before taking me all the way down in one swift movement. I feel my cock hit the back of his throat, and I moan as I’m consumed with pleasure. He pulls back off before taking me down again, the wet heat of his mouth pulling me closer and closer to climax. Then, one of his hands starts to move, the other still holding me down, moving down below my cock and fondling my balls.

It all becomes too much, both his hand and mouth working on me. He lightly adds pressure to the hand cupped around my balls, and I come, moaning his name.

“Simon.”

He continues to suck me through my orgasm, swallowing ever last drop before releasing me. He sits up, catching his breath, as I relax into floor, coming down from the blissful high. After a moment, he leans back over me to place a kiss to my lips. I hum happily, and his lips part. I slip my tongue inside, tasting myself in his mouth. He leans down farther, pressing his body flush with mine, and I can feel his erection rub against my leg through his clothes.

“These need to come off,” I breath, tugging on his joggers. “I want to touch you.”

He obliges, quickly pulling them off and chucking them off to the side, not caring where they land. I just hope that he’s being mindful of the candles. The last thing we need is for our house to catch fire while we’re wrapped around each other, completely naked.

“Oil?” I ask, looking around me for the bowl.

It’s less than a foot away, and miraculously, it hasn’t gotten dumped. It has begun to cool, but it’s still warm enough, and oily enough, to use. I rub it on fingers for a moment before I reach for him. I run a teasing finger around the base of his cock as he buries his face in my neck. He bites a mark into the spot just below my jaw as I finally wrap my hand around his cock and give it a gentle tug.

He gasps against my neck, and I pull again. As he breathes heavily against my neck, I alternate between slow, gentle pulls and firm, hurried ones.

“I’m close,” he moans, and I’m not surprised that it’s happening this quickly.

It doesn’t usually take him long after I’ve gotten him to completely relax with a massage. I love him like this, completely relaxed and carefree. It means that he trusts me enough to just be himself, not worried about what’s going on in the rest of the world.

“Come for me,” I whisper into his ear, placing a soft kiss against his cheek, and speeding up my movements, pulling his orgasm from him. I bite into his shoulder, sending him over the edge, and he comes between us with a low moan, covering us both in white streams of his come.

I pull him through his release, and he collapses on top of me, a warm pressure against my naked body. I run the fingers of my clean hand through his hair as he rests it on my chest, coming down from his high.

“Better now?” I murmur as he relaxes into me.

“Much. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say with a light chuckle, closing my eyes and holding on to him tighter.

“Relaxing bath now?” He asks after a quiet minute.

“Anything for you, my love.” I press a kiss to his forehead before standing and pulling him up after me.

He stumbles toward me, cradling my face in his hands and leaning forward to whisper, “I love you, Baz.”

“You’re such a sap,” I murmur against his lips before kissing him again. Pulling back with a smile on my face, I tell him, “I love you, too, Simon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3


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